Happily Ever After? Inconceivable!
by Ellynne
Summary: A few people have objections to Emma's wedding, including Inigo Montoya. Not for Hook fans.


**Note:** Friendly warning. This story is not Hook friendly. Those who don't like that will probably be much happier not reading it.

X

The feeling of uneasiness had been growing in Archie all week. It was as if he'd been going around in a fog but couldn't see his way out of it. Or had lost his glasses. But, his glasses were there, perched on his nose (he checked), but the feeling still wouldn't go away—or not until he was standing in front of half of Storybrooke. That was when everything clicked.

He looked at Emma in her fifties style wedding dress. Even Archie knew it was a clear copy of Grace Kelly's famous dress (about twenty different people, including Emma, had told him that just since this morning). _Princess_ Grace, Archie thought. As if Emma were trying to prove to herself— to her parents—to the world at large—that this was a fairy tale wedding.

And it was, Archie supposed, so long as you didn't look too closely.

"If any can show just cause why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace," he said loudly.

"Uh, Archie," Emma whispered. "I thought we were leaving that part out."

"Enchanted Forest tradition," Archie said. He didn't say which one. It wasn't a lie. As a conscience, it had been his job to try and keep people from making mistakes they would regret for the rest of their lives. It was what he'd always done. That made it a tradition, didn't it?

"Anyone?" Archie said.

Jones' eyes flashed and the arm with his hook twitched, obviously considering his own way of speeding things up. A conscience speaks up no matter the danger, Archie told himself, trying not to think about the first time he'd met Jones when he'd been holding him prisoner on the _Jolly Roger_ and trying to torture information out of him. A conscience may not be listened to, it may be ignored, shouted down, told to mind its own business, or attacked by a man with a hook. But, it spoke up.

"Anyone?" Archie repeated. "Anyone? Come on, are we really going to let this happen?"

The sea of faces looked back at him, slightly confused and a little blank, like a class full of students who'd just had a question thrown into their midst when none of them had been listening, like a hand grenade waiting to go off.

Then, slowly, Henry stood up. "Mom, I know I said I'd be happy if you were happy. But, c'mon, you don't need a super power to know any kid who says that is lying. Hook's a drunk and a creep. I don't care if I have to sleep in the street. If you move him into the house, I'm out of there."

Snow stood up, looking puzzled. "Emma, I know I was excited for your wedding, but. . . ." She hesitated, as if she were just remembering the truth. She went on, sounding firmer. "Killian Jones has said crude, misogynistic things about every woman in town. Including your own mother and your son's girlfriend. She isn't even old enough to drive. When you met him, he was hiding under a pile of bodies of people he'd killed. This isn't right."

"Mom, it's been over a year since Killian killed anyone," Emma protested. "He's changed."

There was a gentle cough from the back of the assembly, the kind of cough that, no matter how gentle it was, told anyone who heard it to start paying attention. And they all heard it. As one, every head turned. There was Gold standing at the other end of the aisle. There was a vicious looking tear in his Armani suit right over the heart.

"You!" Jones said. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" Gold said. "I'm crashing your wedding. Sorry I'm late, but the invitation to see my son's only child get a new stepfather seems to have been lost in the mail."

"You're supposed to be dead!"

Gold rolled his eyes. "First, immortal. Second, I invented the cure to dreamshade poison. Third, Sheriff, you should know that Enchanted Forest law clearly states that, if either party in a wedding includes lies in their vows, the entire vow—and the ceremony itself—is invalid. An oath predicated on a lie cannot stand."

"Uh, sorry," Emma said. "Could you say that again? In English?"

"I just said that, even without the interruptions, you're not married. The good captain swore you'd taught him to get over revenge. Fifteen minutes ago he was sticking his hook in my chest—again—and saying he'd finally skinned his crocodile. That sounds like revenge. If you want to get married, he'll have to start over, preferably without saying anything about being over revenge, emotionally mature, honest, faithful, or anything else we all know is a lie."

"Hey, that's not—"

"I'm also pressing charges for assault, attempted murder, and ruining a $1,500 suit."

"You can't do that!"

David stood up. "She's right, Gold. She can't do that."

Emma beamed. "Thanks, Dad."

"It's a conflict of interest. I'll arrest him." He turned to his daughter. "I'm sorry, Emma. But, he murdered my father in cold blood, along with a lot of other people. He belongs in jail."

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" a voice with a Spanish accent broke in. Heads turned again as a dark haired, mustached man in the kind of swashbuckler dress that showed he was either new in town or going for traditional dress came through. He looked at Jones. "Ah, yes, you are the one-handed man. I have been looking for you."

"I don't believe it!" Henry said. "You're Inigo Montoya, aren't you?"

"Inigo Montoya?' Emma said. "He's in your book?"

Henry rolled his eyes, looking the same as his grandfather had moments before. "No, Mom. He was in the deluxe, illustrated version of _The Princess Bride._ I have read more than one book, you know." He turned his attention back to Inigo. "You're not going to say he killed your father, are you? I mean, I know he killed my grandpa's father—and his father—and a lot of other fathers—it's sort of a hobby of his, he even keeps their wedding rings—but I thought someone else killed yours."

"And you would be correct. My father was killed by Count Rugen, the six-fingered man. After twenty years of dedicating myself to mastering the sword, I tracked Rugen down and killed him."

Jones broke in. "So, you've got no business here, do you? Shove off, mate. We've got a wedding to finish."

"That is not exactly true," Inigo said. Smiling coldly, he drew his sword. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my brother. Prepare to die."


End file.
